DIPLOMACY rewards patience. But there comes a point when patience begins to resemble complacency.
For more than two decades, Asean and China have been negotiating a Code of Conduct (COC) for the South China Sea. Through the years, diplomats have met in one capital after another, producing declarations, frameworks, guidelines and draft texts. Each round ends with hopeful statements that “progress has been made.”
Meanwhile, events at sea have moved much faster than events in conference rooms. That raises an uncomfortable question.
Are we negotiating the future? Or are we merely trying to catch up with a reality that has already changed?
Most Filipinos understandably assume that once a COC is finally signed, tensions in the West Philippine Sea will ease. It is an appealing thought. Unfortunately, international relations seldom work that way.
A code is simply an agreed set of rules. It cannot reclaim reefs that have already been occupied. It cannot dismantle military installations built over the past decade. It cannot prevent a coast guard vessel from using water cannons or dangerous maneuvers if one party believes the strategic benefits outweigh the diplomatic costs. Rules matter, but only if backed by law, capability and political will.
When Asean first proposed a COC in the 1990s, the objective was preventive. The hope was to establish guardrails before disputes escalated beyond control.
Now, artificial islands have transformed the geography of the South China Sea. Military facilities now occupy features that once lay submerged. Coast guards and maritime militias confront one another with increasing frequency. Fishing boats have become frontline actors in a contest of sovereignty. What once seemed exceptional — blocking, shadowing, ramming, even water-cannon attacks — has become almost routine.
The negotiators are no longer trying to prevent the status quo from changing. They are trying to manage one that has already changed. That is a far more difficult undertaking.
Imagine two neighbors arguing over the location of a fence. While discussions continue about drafting rules for good neighborly conduct, one neighbor gradually moves the fence farther into the other’s yard. Years later, both finally agree to write those rules.
The question is simple: Will the rules restore the original fence, or will they merely regulate future arguments over its new location? That, in many ways, is the dilemma confronting today’s Code of Conduct negotiations.
None of this is an argument against negotiations. On the contrary, the Philippines should continue participating actively and constructively. Diplomacy remains preferable to confrontation. Open lines of communication reduce the risk of accidents and miscalculations. Even imperfect agreements can encourage transparency and confidence-building.
But we should avoid confusing the signing of a document with the resolution of a dispute.
A meaningful Code of Conduct must reinforce — not dilute — the principles of international law. It should uphold Unclos, discourage coercion rather than merely urge restraint, and above all, protect the fishermen, civilian mariners and coast guard personnel who face these tensions every day at sea.
Otherwise, the region may celebrate a diplomatic achievement while conditions at sea remain largely unchanged.
The Philippines is hardly entering these negotiations empty-handed. We possess something military power alone cannot provide: legal legitimacy. The 2016 arbitral award affirmed important aspects of our maritime rights under international law. We have earned growing support from like-minded nations that recognize the importance of a rules-based maritime order. Perhaps our greatest advantage has been transparency. By documenting and publicly sharing incidents in the West Philippine Sea, we have made it increasingly difficult for coercive actions to remain hidden or be dismissed as competing narratives. Japan’s response offers an instructive example: every maritime incursion is documented, protested, and publicized. Transparency makes it harder for coercion to become routine.
Small states rarely prevail through overwhelming power. They survive by refusing to yield. Vietnam has maintained a persistent presence in contested waters despite years of pressure. Finland reminds us that resilience, credible defense and strong partnerships can matter as much as military might. The lesson is simple: consistency is a strategy. A nation that refuses to surrender its rights, documents every violation, and stands with reliable partners becomes far more difficult to intimidate.
The Code of Conduct, if wisely crafted, can become one pillar of regional stability. But it cannot be the only pillar. Maritime domain awareness, credible coast guard and naval capabilities, reliable alliances, an informed citizenry, and an unwavering adherence to international law are equally indispensable. The Philippines does not have to match China’s strength. It has to convince Beijing that intimidation comes at a price. Diplomatic, legal and strategic.
Peace in the West Philippine Sea will not be secured by signatures alone. Rules matter — but only when nations are willing and able to uphold them. It will be secured when agreements are matched by conduct, when law is matched by resolve, and when diplomacy is reinforced by national capability. The true measure of a Code of Conduct will not be the applause that accompanies its signing. It will be what happens the following morning.
Will a Filipino fisherman once again cast his net without wondering whether he will return home unharmed? Will a Philippine resupply mission proceed without harassment? Will our sailors and coast guard perform their duties without intimidation?
If the answer to those questions is yes, then the Code will have fulfilled its promise. If not, it will become another well-written document, reminding us that treaties do not keep the peace. Nations do.
